Hold the Clowns, Please
by Titan5
Summary: A little Halloween fallout from John’s childhood experience with bank robbers.


**Title**: Hold the Clowns, Please

**Author**: Titan5

**Summary**: A little Halloween fallout from John's childhood experience with bank robbers.

**Note**: This is a sequel to _Send in the Clowns_ and you probably need to read that first for this to make sense. Written as a response to the Halloween Challenge on the Baby Boo and Bear Cub community at Livejournal.

**Hold the Clowns, Please**

Rachel Sheppard pushed the door open and watched John walk past her into the kitchen. He'd been unusually quiet on the way home, which worried her. It had only been six weeks since they'd been caught up in a bank robbery that left four people dead. John had finally begun to act like himself the last week or ten days, but today he'd gone back to silent and sullen on the way home from school.

"Did something happen at school today?" she prodded.

"No."

"Anyone say anything to upset you?"

"No."

"Something scare you maybe?"

"No, Mom, I'm fine."

Sighing, Rachel shook her head. It was like pulling teeth to get anything out of her son. Sometimes she thought he was six going on twenty-six. "I made cookies. Would you like some?"

John's head whipped around and the dark expression lightened for a moment. "What kind?"

"Chocolate chip with just a little bit of oatmeal, just like you like them. I'll bring you a couple and a glass of milk."

"Thanks, Mom," he said, hanging his backpack on the hook by the door and bounding into the living room.

Rachel sighed again, amazed sometimes about how quick the mood changes could be. The psychologist she had spoken to had warned her about severe mood swings, along with the nightmares, periods of almost detached lack of emotion, and even flashbacks. She'd been worried when he had a stomach ache almost constantly for a while, but the doctor assured her that was a fairly normal response to the trauma. John still poked his food more than he ate it, but at least he took in enough lately to keep her from worrying about malnutrition. He had looked thin and frail to her since the robbery, an impression that was probably exaggerated by the experience.

She gathered three cookies on a small plate and poured a glass of milk. Reaching for the plate, she noticed the envelope on the top of the mail, piled on the table. It was an orange envelope hand-addressed to John. Setting the glass down, Rachel grabbed the envelope and opened it, hoping it was something John would find exciting. She smiled when she read the invitation. Grabbing the plate and glass, she hurried into the next room.

"Here you go," Rachel said as she handed John the plate and set the milk on the coaster at the edge of the end table.

"Thanks, Mom," John said, taking the plate and then looking back at the television.

"Hey, you got an invitation to Mark Wellington's Halloween party next week. It says they're going to have lots of games and food. You get to go in your costume, too." She waited on the excitement to begin pouring out. She was shocked when he looked up at her sadly, his eyes dark and old.

"I don't want to go."

"What? What do you mean you don't want to go?" She couldn't have been more surprised if he'd suddenly jumped up and slapped her.

He stared at her a moment and then looked back at the television.

"John, answer me. Why don't you want to go?" She had a feeling his reason would explain his dark mood on the ride home earlier. When he didn't respond, she picked up the remote and turned off the TV before sitting on the couch beside him. Gently, she took his hands in hers and realized he was shaking slightly, making her heart drop. Just when she thought they were moving past things. "John, why don't you want to go to the party?"

He looked down at his lap, almost as if he was ashamed. "Mark . . . Mark told us about the party today." He paused, licking his lips uncertainly. "Russell said he was . . . "

His face had gone white and his eyes had grown moist. Rachel watched him quickly wipe his face, trying to hide the tears that were threatening to fall. His bottom lip quivered for just a second before he clamped his jaws together and regained control. "What is it sweetie?"

"Russell's coming as a clown."

Rachel sighed. She hadn't even seen that one coming and she scolded herself roughly. She should have thought of that. Clowns were a common costume for children at Halloween. Why hadn't she thought of that? "Well . . . you know most clowns are good, honey. And you'll know it's Russell, not . . . not one of the bad men."

John scowled at her, his expression almost looking like he was in physical pain. "He's going to have green hair."

"Oh." Holy crap! Had this kid done this on purpose? How could his mother not know? It had been on all the television stations . . . in every paper . . . did it not occur to them or did they just not care? What was she going to do?

"I'm not going," John said. Then he looked worried, as if he'd just then realized he was only six and didn't have the authority to refuse things. "Please . . . don't make me go." His voice was so quiet and the request so whispered that Rachel barely heard it. She thought she heard his heart more than his voice. He now looked terrified at the prospect of being made to attend a party. It was so unfair that any six year old child should ever feel that way.

"No, John, of course you don't have to go if you don't want to," she said, trying to reassure him. She reached out and pulled him into her lap, stroking her hand through his hair and feeling the tremors that made his body quiver.

"Thank you," he whispered. He seemed to relax in her grip for a few minutes before his small body stiffened and he twisted around to look up at her, his eyes wide. "Do I have to go trick-or-treating?"

This time she knew what his fear was. They always saw clowns when they were making their rounds of the neighborhoods. And the encounters would be on foot in the dark. No way was she subjecting him to that. "No, sweetie, you don't have to go. But if you don't go to the party or trick-or-treating, you won't get to wear your costume." They had found a Batman costume the week before and John had been ecstatic. They had found it almost immediately, saving her the usual search through a giant pile of outfits. She'd been thrilled at the time, but now she was thinking a little more exposure might have clued her in that this was coming.

"That's okay." This time he really did relax, the tremors easing as his muscles unclenched.

"I have an idea," she said. "You can dress up in your costume and we'll have our own party on Halloween. We'll make some goodies and watch movies and carve a jack-o-lantern if you want."

John squirmed out of her lap to sit beside her, looking up at her with such hope. "Really?"

Smiling, Rachel felt excitement flow through her at his genuine interest. "Yes, really. We'll make whatever you want to."

"Could you dress up too?" he asked.

Laughing, Rachel leaned back against the couch cushions. "Yes, I can. That sounds like a lot of fun. You'll have to help me come up with a good costume."

"I think you should be a princess . . . or maybe a queen." Rachel resisted the urge to laugh at herself being royalty, because the earnest look on her son's face told her he was serious. And she knew the day when he didn't see her that way would come soon enough. She was enjoying the adoration while she could.

"I think that's a good idea. And Batman can be my protector."

John smiled. "That's why I like him so much . . . cause he protects people. And he has cool stuff."

Rachel rubbed the top of his head, tousling the already unruly hair. "I'll take you as my protector over Batman any day."

"Aw, Mom," John drawled.

oOo

John fingered the picture of his mother and then sighed, placing it back in his drawer. The door chimed and then opened.

"Come on, Colonel, I'm starved. We'd better get to the mess hall quickly because they're having cake for dessert and you know how these people get over cake."

Sliding the drawer shut, John grinned as he turned around. "Hello to you too, McKay. You know I think the purpose of the door chime is to give me a chance to let you in . . . or not."

Rodney waved one hand dismissively. "Whatever, you know this just saves time. Starved . . . remember? Let's go."

John fell in step beside his friend as they left his room. "Keep your shirt on, Rodney. We'll make it in plenty of time to get cake."

Snorting, Rodney quickened his pace. "Says you." They walked in silence for a few moments before Rodney glanced up at him. "Hey, the Halloween party is next week and we're supposed to dress up. Who are you going as?"

"Batman."

"Really? I always liked Batman. I'm going as Einstein, even if some of his theories do need work. Why Batman?"

John smiled, a feeling of warmth filling him. "Because sometimes he gets to protect a _real_ queen."

THE END


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